


Late Night Drinks

by bratchet



Series: Bloody Beautiful [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Graphic Description, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Better, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratchet/pseuds/bratchet
Summary: Draco and Harry both work in the DMLE for the Ministry of Magic. Draco asks Harry to get drinks after an exhausting day at work.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Bloody Beautiful [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753534
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Late Night Drinks

Draco and Harry have been Aurors for almost five years. Obviously when they began, there were some issues with them having to work as partners. While they weren’t necessarily rivaling classmates anymore, they weren’t particularly thrilled with the idea of having to see each other every day and work every assignment together. They had to trust each other, which meant that if either one were in danger, the other wouldn’t immediately disapparate out - but Harry didn’t trust Malfoy, and Draco just didn’t bother convincing him otherwise.

However, as the years went by, their negative feelings for each other gradually dissipated into something of a friendship. To them, having to study different crimes against the wizarding community was like two best friends working on a class project together. They enjoyed each other’s company, and were able to get past the toxic banter that thrived at Hogwarts. Of course, that doesn’t mean they always agreed with each other as sometimes Harry’s idea of barging straight in with no plan clashed with Draco’s idea of strategizing for anything unpleasant that might happen. Nonetheless, the pair’s relationship would only continue to grow after each assignment.

-

“Potter, fancy drinks after work today?” Draco asked.

“I suppose that’s a good idea actually,” Harry answered, placing the large file Shacklebolt gave him onto his desk. “I can’t look at another bloody file before gorging my own eyes out.”

Draco exasperatedly exhaled, “Merlin, did Shacklebolt give us another assignment? He isn’t going easy on us at all - one task after another. We can’t catch a damned break.”

Harry's eyes widened in agreement. “Honestly, let’s just leave now, and make this tomorrow’s problem. We’ve just completed one today, and ugh, it’s got my neck all sore,” Harry suggested, rubbing the tense muscles.

Draco’s eyebrow raised at the way Potter stretched his neck, and agreed, “Very well, we should get out of here before Shacklebolt catches us.”

-

The two barely snuck out of the Ministry by a hair, and apparated outside The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. The pub was unsurprisingly full, as it was pretty popular among all wizards and witches. They sat themselves by a window, but near the bar so that they could continuously order glasses of whiskey and rum to their table. 

Draco took off his coat, and asked “Who’s buying the first round, Potter?”

Harry put his hands up, “This was your idea, Malfoy. I had no intentions of drinking tonight, but you so charmingly convinced me.” He paused, giving a silly smirk, “So you should probably buy the first round.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t act like you didn’t need a drink after that last fight.” Draco stood up and walked towards the bar to order two glasses of Firewhisky. 

Harry waited for Draco to return, which took a fairly long time considering it was just two drinks. He turned his head to see what was keeping the blonde, and saw that he was talking to someone. The man looked a lot like Theodore Nott, one of Malfoy’s old Slytherin friends from Hogwarts. He pushed his glasses up, and silently studied the interaction. 

They seemed awfully close for not having seen each other since their seventh year. “Nott” was standing in a way where Harry could only see his profile, so he couldn’t even confirm if it was actually Theodore Nott. He tried to read their lips - an almost impossible task - and tried to understand what they were chatting about. Harry tilted his head and thought they were probably just catching up or something. 

That was until Harry saw Draco smile in a way that he’d never seen before. It was so gentle, so sweet, so tempting. It’s the type of smile that if one ever received it, they’d feel like the most special god damned person in all of Britain. When “Nott’s” hand went up to touch Draco’s cheek, Harry immediately turned around. He felt his chest heat up at the sudden display of affection. The tiny pit that trapped itself in his stomach was begging to escape. His cheeks reddened with shame and envy. The wave of sudden anger that washed over his body every time he replayed that moment of contact. 

Harry rubbed his cheeks, desperately trying to wipe away any color that showed. He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, wondering why he was so stressed about what he saw. It was Draco’s own life. Maybe that bloke was trying to flirt with him, but it shouldn’t bother Harry. How does it concern him? He shook his head, and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.

When Draco returned with the drinks, Harry smiled, “About bloody time, Malfoy. I thought you’ve fallen on your arse on the way back.”

“You wish,” Draco chuckled. He handed the glass to Harry. 

They cheersed and took a big gulp of the burning alcohol. Harry winced at the painful sensation that ran down his throat. 

“So…” Harry paused, “Who was that you were with by the bar?”

Draco set his Firewhiskey on the table, "Hm?"

"By the bar, Malfoy."

"Oh, that was Theodore Nott."

So it really was Theodore bloody Nott. Harry felt another wave of annoyance, "Nott? From your house? I haven't heard that name in awhile. How is he?"

"He's alright, I guess. Said he’s been working at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, down on Diagon Alley. See, he rather enjoys potions, but the first years that cluelessly wonder around the store tick him off in an unusual way.”

Harry nodded, but what he wanted to know was why Nott touched Draco in such an affectionate way. “Ah, so what else did you guys talk about?”

Draco raised his eyebrow, “Well, he wanted to know how I’ve been doing these last few years. And I told him I was great, better than what I’d expected after that brutal war. Told him about the numerous tasks we get assigned, and how exhausting it’s been. Can’t complain though, work is work.”

Harry nodded again, feigning interest in that Slytherin prat. "You guys seemed awfully cozy by the bar. Am I sensing some hidden romance?"

"Pft. Not at all. Back at Hogwarts, he stayed close to me throughout our sixth year. Couldn't imagine anyone fancying me back then, but Nott did," Draco answered, rather amused. 

"And what? About a decade later, he's decided he wants to ask you out?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. But yes, he did ask if I ever wanted to catch up, that we should go for a cup of tea."

"And did you say yes?" 

Draco shook his head. "He's not really my type." He paused, and then asked, “Why are you so curious about him anyway?” 

“Oh no reason.” Harry internally panicked, but played it off with the wave of his hand.

“Don’t tell me you fancy him…” Draco added with a smirk.

Fancy  _ him _ ? What a joke. “No, not at all. Never,” Harry responded with an unimpressed laugh.

“Alright, Potter, whatever you say." Draco chugged the rest of his glass and signaled Potter that he was buying the next round.

Harry playfully pouted, but obliged. He went to the bar to order two more drinks. And then another two. And then two more. And then two after that. By the time he brought the last two glasses, he was wobbling to his seat, grinning like an idiot. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to wake up without an aching headache tomorrow morning?” Harry slurred to Draco.

“I doubt it, Potter. You’ll look worse than you normally do. What a shame.”

Harry could feel his cheeks reddening under the intense heat, “Are you saying I’m ugly?” Harry slammed his fist onto the table in a playful manner, “How dare you, Malfoy. I know plenty of girls who’d want me.” With the last word, Harry foolishly placed his right hand over his chest.

Draco chuckled at how ridiculous Harry looked in front of him. “Yeah, I’m  _ sure _ .”

Harry stood up from his seat and walked beside Draco. His finger directly in the blonde’s face, “Admit it, you’ve probably thought I was hot at some point.” Harry paused, and cleared his throat. He couldn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth.

“Come on, now, Potter. Don’t say such silly things,” Draco faced the side, away from Harry’s confronting finger.

Harry felt a pit in his stomach. Was that disappointment? No, it’s Draco bloody Malfoy, when has his opinion ever mattered? He was aware of how close he was to the blonde. His body positioned right between his open legs. He knew he should’ve backed away, and given him back his personal space. But Harry’s insides burned with the courageous fire from the whiskey. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.

Draco immediately retreated from the kiss, looking directly into the intoxicated green eyes. He didn’t look repulsed, just stunned. Harry licked his dry lips, and steadied himself to return to his seat, but Draco reached for the flushed cheeks before reconnecting their kiss. 

The kiss was messy. Their lips devoured each other as they tilted further into each other’s mouths. Their tongues battled for control, and Draco groaned under the other’s alcoholic breath. Harry aggressively bit Draco’s bottom lip, causing the latter to wince at the pleasurable pain. Harry’s legs felt weak, like he could drop at any moment. The only thing keeping him up was the firm fingers on his waist, needily pulling him in. He placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders, trying desperately to balance. They constantly parted, trying to catch their own breaths before leaning back in. 

Harry felt like he was in the clouds. His mind felt fuzzy whenever he inhaled Draco’s subtle cologne. Did he smell something fruity? Or was that citrusy? No wait, it smelled minty, like peppermint candy with a tinge of licorice. Harry felt his trousers tighten, the tension begging to be relieved. 

Harry’s mind raced with sudden images. The disappointed expressions of his muggle aunt and uncle. Their distasteful faces. Their violent punishments of shoving him back into the tiny cupboard underneath the stairs branded in his thoughts. He shouldn’t be doing this. This is disgusting. He was beginning to feel sick. 

Harry pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily in front of the blonde. He pushed himself back, “I’m sorry. I can’t - I can’t do this.” As he went for the backdoor of the pub, he shakily tripped over the leg of a stool, but kept walking as if it didn’t sting his ankle. 

Draco dizzily watched the boy run out into the alley, and shook himself back to his senses. He grabbed his coat and the one Harry left behind, and worriedly followed the boy. When he made it out, the sudden breeze against his warm cheeks was refreshing. His head turned to Harry, who was lying on the sooty brick wall.

Draco approached him, “Potter, are you okay?”

The black-haired boy’s eyes shot up to meet the blonde’s, “I-I’m fine, I just need some air.” Harry stretched his neck in agitation.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Draco suggested as he returned Harry’s coat.

Draco reached for Harry’s shoulder, but Harry immediately flinched away, “Please don’t touch me.” 

The boy took a deep breath and walked down the alley, but Draco called out, “Are you sure you’ll find your way home? I can bring you back, if you need.”

Harry turned back and shook his head, “No, I said I’m fine.”

Draco was slightly tipsy, but he could still probably apparate home if he needed to. He scanned the area in concern. He couldn’t leave Harry like that, but he didn’t want to push further and make him more upset. Maybe he should just secretly follow Harry to make sure that he got home safely. 

Ultimately, Draco felt it’d be better to just let him be. He kept wondering what went wrong. Why had Harry kissed him? Why did he run away? He grew increasingly troubled about the entire situation. The blonde rubbed his cold hands together, creating enough friction to warm them up. Then, he apparated back home.

-

The next day in the Ministry was unusual. Harry spoke of the numb ringing in his ear because of the massive hangover he had. He teasingly blamed Draco for convincing him to go to the pub the night before a workday. He read the file that Shacklebolt gave him and complained about the growing crimes in the wizarding community. He spoke to Draco as if nothing happened the night before. Everything was so unusual because it was so normal. 

Draco played along, and didn’t question the unexpectedly relaxed atmosphere. But he was a little curious. Did Harry forget about what happened last night? Was he that drunk? He wanted to ask Harry about it, but waited until they shared lunch at 2 o’clock. 

Harry sat down with his pasta, and Draco with his roast beef. As Harry went to put food in his mouth, Draco spoke up, “So about last night - “ Harry froze for a second, and bit down on the pasta. 

“What about it?” Harry asked, still casually eating his lunch.

Draco hesitated, “Um, the kiss?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry responded, clenching his fork so hard that his knuckles were white.

Draco saw the boy tense up, and he didn’t know how to continue. He cleared his throat, “We kissed last night… at The Three Broomsticks.”

“No, we didn’t,” Harry softly smiled.

Draco was slightly taken aback by the passive-aggressiveness hidden behind that friendly grin. “But, we did.”

Harry placed his fork onto the table, “I believe differently. All we did was have a couple drinks, and then we went our separate ways.”

“But -”

Harry slammed his palm until the table. “No! Nothing else happened last night!” he exclaimed.

Draco’s eyebrows scrunched at the abrupt reaction. He could tell Harry remembered. The way he lost his temper was a telltale sign that he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. “Potter, are you alright?”

Harry let out a laugh of disbelief, “You keep asking me that. I’m fine.” He smiled once again, “I’m sorry, but I’m not that hungry anymore. I’ll see you back at the office.” He got up from his seat, and walked back towards his desk.

-

Shacklebolt walked over to the pair’s desks, “Why are you two still sitting here? I gave you guys that file yesterday, and have yet to hear any updates on the situation at Borgin and Burkes.”

Harry and Draco immediately got off their seats and apologized. 

“Go now.”

The pair disapparated outside Borgin and Burkes. They were looking for any suspicious activity, anything that might indicate some type of wicked intent. The air was still awkward. Harry didn’t look at nor speak to Draco once while they were examining the shop.

Draco paused when he caught sight of the Vanishing Cabinet. His curious finger ran down the front of it, and he shuddered at the unpleasant memory that swelled in his mind. He will never forget the yearlong routine of trying to repair the one at Hogwarts. He will never forget the number of Death Eaters that swarmed out of it through the very cabinet he was staring at. He will never forget the horrid events that followed. His mind kept repeating, “Kill Dumbledore. Kill him and Voldemort would be proud enough to leave your family be. Kill him and you’ll be closer to safety.”

Draco’s thoughts were cut off by a voice behind him. “Malfoy, you alright?” Harry asked.

He turned around, and nodded, “Swell.”

Harry inhaled, and went back to inspecting every object he came across. Cursed locket. Cursed book. Cursed skull. Everything was bloody cursed, but nothing out of the ordinary for such a place. 

Harry made his way to the back room, and halted when he saw the items that scattered about. There were several sex toys in every corner of the room. He saw a swing hanging in the back. He saw a leather suit hanging beside him. He didn’t really know if he wanted to continue searching. The only thing that kept racing through his mind was Borgin and why he had these objects behind the shop.

Draco entered after Harry, asking why he stopped. He glanced every inch of the room in utter bewilderment, “What the hell?” His eyes fell back on Harry who was just as puzzled as himself. But beside the obvious shock on his face, he also looked extremely uncomfortable.

Harry’s cheeks heated up when he saw Draco. Being together in this type of room. He felt oddly aroused. He pictured himself on top of the swing, while Draco needily pushed and pulled. He pictured Draco savagely thrusting into him against that pole sitting on the left side. He pictured just being in the same bed as him, sharing multiple filthy moments together. His eyes anxiously flitted across the room when he suddenly remembered last night. He felt nauseous. 

The black-haired boy exhaled, “I need some air.”   
  


Harry turned and walked out of Borgin and Burkes. It was night time now. The cold wind did little to ease Harry’s mind. He shut his eyes as he took several deep breaths. He didn’t think about those things. No. He couldn’t have. He shouldn’t have. His hand shakily removed his glasses. He used his palms to rub his forehead, his stressed eyes, his scarlet cheeks. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget so badly. But the harder he tried to forget, the more he thought back to it.

Harry desperately wanted to just disapparate back home. He couldn’t stand being here right now. He couldn’t stand being with Draco. But something was stopping him from leaving. That slight bit of wanting to stay - wanting to stay with  _ him _ . Thinking about the blonde stressed him out, but it also brought a sense of relief. 

After half an hour, Draco cautiously walked outside, and told Harry that there was nothing suspicious in the back room. 

Draco studied the boy. He looked sickeningly pale. His breathing was quick and short. His hands were trembling to place the glasses back on the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s great,” Harry answered, “Shacklebolt would be truly relieved.”

“Truly.” Draco licked his dry lips, “Maybe we can tell him tomorrow though? It’s getting late, and I doubt he’s actually still there.”

Harry nodded, “You’re right. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turned down the path. 

“Wait!” 

Harry shot his head towards the blonde, and raised his eyebrow, prompting Draco to continue.

Draco paused. “Would you actually want to get some tea? It seems both you and I need to relax a bit.”

Harry hesitated, contemplating if it was a good idea, “Sure, I guess that’s alright.”

Draco smiled at Harry, to which Harry’s expression softened. That bloody smile. The same one he gave to Theodore Nott made his stomach fill with little butterflies. 

“Where are we going exactly?” Harry asked.

Draco turned, “You don’t mind if we go back to my place, do you? I prefer to brew my own tea, is all. But, if you want to go to a nearby cafe, that’s also okay.” 

Of course Harry minded going to Draco Malfoy’s bloody manor, but at the same time, it’s just for tea, right? “It’s fine. I suppose we can just go to your place, then.” 

-

As the two arrived at Malfoy Manor, Harry’s eyes widened in realization, “Wait, do your parents still live with you?”

“No, they have some business in Egypt. Not quite sure what though. But they’ve been there for the last year, and they still send me letters through Owl Post so I guess they’re alright,” Draco responded, approaching the front door. The door swung open on its own, like it knew who its owner was.

“Hm, I didn’t know you lived alone. Doesn’t it get a bit lonely? Living in this massive mansion all by yourself?”

Draco’s lip tugged into a thin line, “Aw, worried about me, Potter?”

Harry snarkily twisted his face, “Not quite. I feel more bad than worried, honestly.”

Draco rolled his eyes as they walked past the large entrance hall, and into the kitchen. Draco opened the top drawers, and pulled out the self-packaged tea leaves that he’d kept handy for any surprise guests. 

“Do you like Chamomile?” Draco asked, placing tea white cups onto the counter.

“Yeah.” Harry answered. Harry sat at the little table set up near the counter. He watched the slender fingers drop the tea bag and then Aguamenti boiling water into the cup. 

Draco swiftly turned around and placed the Chamomile tea in front of Harry. 

Harry cooled the tea down by blowing into it, and then took a tiny sip. His eyebrows raised at the taste. It tasted like warm honey with hints of apple. The smoothness flowed through his mouth as he swallowed. It was soothing, and Harry immediately felt relaxed. 

“Good, right?” Draco asked, eyeing the boy’s reaction. 

Harry nodded quickly, “Tastes better than the ones from Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, honestly.”

The blonde softly grinned, “Thanks, I’m so glad my teas could appease the great Harry Potter.”

-

The atmosphere lightened with each delightful cup of tea, and Harry began to loosen under the warmth. Draco enjoyed watching the boy slowly unwind. However, he couldn't help but want to ask Potter about everything.

"Hey, Potter?" Draco cautiously asked.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something? 

Harry removed the cup from his lips, "About what?" 

"About that night."

Harry glared at the blonde, "Draco, I told you nothing happened that night." 

The sound of his name on Potter’s tongue was weird, but he didn’t think much of it. "I know you told me that. But we both know something  _ did _ happen that night. And I'm not quite sure why you're acting like it didn't." He paused. "I just want to know why."

"Why do you keep pressing the subject? Can't you tell that I obviously don't want to talk about it?" Harry straightened himself up in his seat, ready to leave the tea, the kitchen, the manor. He didn’t understand why Draco kept bringing it up. Why was he so interested in it? Of course, Harry knew that they did share an intimate moment back at the pub, but Harry also knew that it’d be better to just let that obscene image go.

Draco exasperatedly sighed, "Because I'm bloody attracted to you, that's why. I wouldn't have acted on it because I was sure you were into girls. I was ready to let any sort of feelings for you to just pass. But then  _ you _ kissed  _ me _ . And then when I kissed you back, you pretended like it never fucking happened. So yes, I know it's bloody insensitive for me to continue to press the subject, but how do you think I feel? Do you think I'm happy that you don't want to talk about it? Do you think I'm okay with the fact that you avoid any topic involving that night? What if I feel hurt? Did that ever cross your mind that maybe kissing someone, and then forgetting about it hurts? I don't know if it's me that's the problem or something else is bothering you - that's why I want to know." 

Harry was taken aback by the sudden confession, and said in a low voice, "I - I didn't know, I'm sorry."

Draco’s eyes shifted to the side, "Well you never let me talk to you about it."

"That's because I don't want to fucking talk about it. It's bloody disgusting. It's filthy to feel this way for another man. I don't want to feel this way. My skin crawls every time I think about you in that light. My stomach clenches like I'm about to throw up. It's wrong. It's repulsive." Harry's voice cracked. 

He paused, and then continued, "But it doesn't stop me from feeling the way I do. I may think that liking you is the most shameful thing in the world, but it doesn't keep me from thinking about all of these filthy scenarios where we kiss and fuck and hold hands and cuddle. It doesn't stop those thoughts from racing through my mind, and it's fucking driving me insane. Okay? So if I want to put a bloody wall to separate my feelings from what is wrong and from what is right, I’m going to fucking do it."

Draco softened his eyes, "Harry, it's okay if you like guys though."

"No it's fucking not. You know what happened to me back at Privet Drive when my uncle found out that I was into guys? He brutally caned me with a large wooden stick and he threw me into a cupboard under the stairs. Do you know what my aunt did? She 'forgot' to feed me for two weeks, and barely gave me enough water to survive. Do you wanna know what my cousin did? Blasted fat arse pulled me out of the little space and beat the shite out of me. I was barely breathing by the end of it, and they gave me a god damned bandaid to cover a body full of bruises and scratches."

Draco’s jaw was slightly ajar. He felt like a complete arsehole. If he even had an inkling that that was the reason why Harry kept throwing away the topic, he wouldn’t have consistently nagged him about it. "I didn't know." 

"No. You didn't. All you did was worry about your own fucking feelings. You knew I didn't want to talk about it. And you kept pushing and pushing. But I can't let it happen.” Harry lowered his voice, “I can't. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get ridiculed. I don't want to be thrown into a cage and treated like a wild animal. I won't let it happen again." 

The room grew silent at the declaration behind his final words. Harry’s fingers trembled under the table. He could feel his heartbeat as he thumbed the veins pulsing in his wrist. He used his nail to press into the lines of his palm, tracing it over and over, until he finally looked down to see how red they’ve become. 

Draco studied the anxious boy, feeling guilty that this is how he would find out about the troubles of Harry’s past, Harry’s emotions, Harry’s inner thoughts. He wanted so desperately to just hold the boy, but he wasn’t sure if Harry would even let him come close. 

Ultimately, Draco spoke up, "Harry, can I say something. And you'll listen to me?"

Harry looked up. His cold eyes pierced through Draco, ready to tell him off if he said anything remotely disagreeable. He reluctantly nodded, prompting Draco to continue..

"Your past. It was a shitty shitty past. And I will never understand what you went through. But I want to let you know now that you're never going to be able to change it or forget it. It's always going to be there, and the only thing that you can do is accept it for what it was. But that doesn't mean that you should let it take over your life. You made it out of that trash place you had to call home. You made it through six gruelling years at Hogwarts. You made it through a bloody war and now you're a god damned Auror. Do you know what that makes you? Strong. It makes you strong, Harry. It makes you brave, and it makes you more powerful than whatever happened in your past. I know that it's hard to accept something you've been trying to deny your whole life, something that's been conditioned to be a bad thing. But I want you to know that it really is okay to like guys, or girls, or both. It doesn't matter your sexual orientation because your sexual orientation doesn't define who you really are. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a bloody idiot."

Harry was slightly touched by what Draco had just told him. His mouth felt dry. His throat felt scratchy. He didn’t really know what to say. His hands went to grab his Chamomile tea. He took a gulp, inwardly wincing at how cold it was now, and then met the silver eyes that were still fixed on him.

'Draco…" he shakily exhaled.

"Yes?"

"I never thought about it like that." He paused, looking down at his cup of tea. Harry still had his doubts about the whole thing, but felt a little more at ease after listening to Draco.

Draco’s eyebrow raised a bit, happy that Harry didn’t immediately deny everything he’d just said. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I could be here to tell you.”

Harry softly grinned. "Thanks." 

"You don't have to thank me for that. I was just telling you the truth. You're brilliant, Harry, whether you're into blokes or not. I fell for you either way, and that's proof enough that you're way better than your past."

Harry’s cheeks reddened slightly. "Malfoy, I've never heard you so sentimental before," he said with a gentle chuckle. 

Draco was slightly taken aback, "Well, I- uh, that's the first and last you'll ever hear of it."

Harry smiled, "Of course it is." 

-

The pair continued to have a light conversation for another couple of hours. 

Draco saw Harry's mouth stretch into a yawn, sparking one of his own.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, rubbing his watery eyes.

"I think around 1am?"

The black-haired boy’s eyes widened, "Merlin, I should really head back then."

"You can stay here if you want. It’s easier that way.” Draco quickly suggested.

Harry did a quick scan around the dimly lit kitchen, “Are you sure?”

Draco stood up to grab the two empty white cups, and placed them gently in the sink. “You can stay in one of the guest bedrooms. People rarely visit, so it's impeccably clean."

"I suppose that's not a bad idea." Harry answered, eyes glued to the back of the blonde.

Draco perked up, “Excellent. I can give you a towel if you want to shower."

Harry shook his head as he stood up, "I don't have spare clothes, it's alright." 

"Well I must inform you that the bedroom drawers accustom themselves to any guest that enters the room. So if you just pop one open, there should be pajamas that fit."

Harry was impressed, "Hm, brilliant. Then I guess I'll shower and head to bed after."

"Very well. Follow me, Potter.” 

Draco left the kitchen with Harry close behind. As they walked through the halls, Harry couldn’t help but look around the vast hallway. The entire Manor just seemed to be barely lit by the few candles every several feet. The stone floor was carpeted with a velvety dark fabric. The walls were lined with pale portraits of every Malfoy from start to finish. There were two large empty grey vases sitting near the base of the staircase. Harry was slightly alarmed by how gloomy everything appeared. Nothing had even a flicker of color besides the gentle orange flames. 

When the pair made it into the guest bedroom, Draco pointed towards the wooden cabinet sitting on the opposite side of the room. Harry walked towards it and pulled open the drawer. His eyebrows raised at the black silky pajamas that resided on the bottom. When he touched the shirt, it felt insanely soft and smooth. Harry wondered if this is what wealthier wizards wore often. 

“Potter, are you going to stand there all night?” Draco nodded towards the door.

Harry turned his head, “Ah, sorry. Where’s the bathroom?” 

Draco explained it was through the door behind Harry, and then left him alone. “Good night, then.” 

Harry nodded, “Good night, Malfoy.” He grabbed the towel that Draco placed on the bed, and entered the bathroom to take a warm shower. 

-   
  


The next morning, the pair greeted each other down in the kitchen. Draco made his usual cup of tea, and Harry patiently sat, waiting for his own. When they finished, they disapparated into the Ministry, and reported everything that they saw to Shacklebolt. The atmosphere grew rather awkward after they brought up what was being held in the back room, but Shacklebolt dismissed it, and told them that they could relax until he had another case for them. 

While they were thrilled to be free from the exhaustive work, they rarely spoke to each other after that night. Harry knew that Draco was attracted to him, and he also knew that he did harbor some sort of affection for the blonde, but he never wanted to act on it. He still felt sick every time he thought about him, which meant the only way he could feel better was to just avoid Draco. But the longer he kept away, the worse he felt. Being with Draco and being without him released such a foul feeling, but Harry could admit that the latter felt immensely more unpleasant.

Weeks passed with the same unchanging routine. Harry and Draco would meet at the office. They would greet each other with a simple “Good morning,” and then read the files Shacklebolt left on their desk. They would inspect the suspicious shops, and report to Shacklebolt about anything they’d found. They would sit in their chairs, idly waiting for their next file, watching the clock tick until it was time to leave. They would say their goodbyes and then head home. 

However, with each passing week, Harry felt better and better about the idea of liking men - specifically Draco. He would constantly look in the mirror, and remind himself of what Draco told him. Every time he felt even a twinge of doubt about anything, he would talk to him, confide in him, and listen to him. He would eventually even think that going out with him would be a good idea. He trusted the blonde enough to be understanding just in case he ever felt scared of what might come. And he knew that one day, when he was truly sure that he could commit to a beautiful relationship with Draco, he would be the first to ask to get a cup of tea.


End file.
